


the cold never bothered me anyway

by countthestars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars/pseuds/countthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, the whole super power thing is some grass is always greener bullshit. Zayn hadn't realized, before he developed a power, that it'd come with an <i>obligation</i>. It was sort of expected that he would dedicate his life to fighting evil.</p>
<p>Louis, though, he never saw coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cold never bothered me anyway

**Author's Note:**

> the usual disclaimers: this is ridiculous, i'm sorry, etc etc.
> 
> title from 'let it go' because louis is a snow queen.
> 
> also PLEASE check out this amazing artwork by maybelletea [here](http://maybellemilk.tumblr.com/post/120251652230/so-i-read-this-superpower-au-zouis-fic-and-louis)!!

Zayn toes his boots off just inside the door, kicking them in the general direction of the closet with two satisfying thumps. On socked feet, he shuffles to the couch and flops down, one leg hooking over the armrest. He's got a low grade headache that's been threatening to turn into a full blown migraine all day, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and nap for maybe a week straight.

Against his better judgment, he reaches for the remote and clicks on the telly. He's not got a signal, is the thing, like some of the more established superheroes. Mostly he relies on the six-o-clock news – or, if he's feeling particularly lethargic after work, the eleven-o-clock news – to keep tabs on things. He wishes he could turn it off, but his power came with this overwhelming sense of duty. It's all very unfair.

The headlining story tonight is the dramatic rise in milk prices and Zayn breathes a sigh of relief. It's an inconvenience, no doubt, but righting the wrongs of capitalism are a bit above Zayn's pay grade.

“In other news,” the anchor smoothly segues into the next story, “It seems the London Zoo is the target of a rather unorthodox protest. Caroline is at the scene.”

Zayn sits up abruptly as the screen cuts to a shot of Caroline, microphone held up to her face as she addresses the camera in serious tones. Behind her is the penguin enclosure, or, Zayn guesses, what's left of it. He can make out what appears to be a snow-covered bridge, spawning from the enclosure past the barrier. A troupe of penguins waddle across to freedom.

“I'm here on location at the London Zoo,” Caroline announces grimly. “As you can see, an unknown culprit has infiltrated the penguin habitat in an attempt to liberate all the penguins. No word yet as to who is behind this heinous act, but sources believe it may be an animal rights activist.”

A penguin waddles up to her then, and Caroline drops the microphone. Zayn doesn't have supersonic hearing, but he doesn't need it to catch her soft cooing as she kneels down, offering the penguin a few head pats. “Oh, aren't you the cutest?”

As the screen cuts back to the news studio, the anchor clears his throat. “Uh, seems we may be having some technical difficulties. Zoo officials have released a statement, asking that whoever is responsible to come forward and turn themselves in.”

Zayn sighs, pushing to his feet and reaching for his boots. There are penguin lives on the line, and he knows exactly who's responsible.

-

Upon closer inspection, Zayn sees that the elaborate snow bridge wasn't the culprit's only handiwork. There's also an impressive log flume made entirely of ice. The penguins seem to be enjoying it, anyway, waddling their way up a finely crafted staircase and flying down the slidey bit. Hands on his hips, Zayn watches for awhile, pressing his lips together against a smile.

“Admit it,” a voice says from behind him. “You're impressed.”

Slowly, Zayn turns around, raising a single brow. He's practiced that look in the mirror, knows its colder than the icy penguin playground he's currently standing in.

It doesn't faze Louis in the slightest. He grins, the corners of his mouth tipping up recklessly. Over one shoulder, he's fastened a cape. It's cobalt blue and sparkles brighter than a blanket freshly fallen snow. It's got nothing on Louis' eyes.

“You're ridiculous,” Zayn sniffs, crossing his arms. “And you're endangering penguin lives.”

“I am _enriching_ their lives,” Louis corrects. He throws his shoulders back proudly so that his cape ripples, glittering in the late afternoon sunlight. Zayn resists the urge to rub his fingers over his temple where his head is beginning to pound.

“Put them back,” he orders. “They could get, like, hit by a car, or eaten by a polar bear.”

Louis' mouth twists into a pout. “Not unless I free the polar bears, too.” His face lights up suddenly, like a light bulb turning on.

“Do not,” Zayn says in his most threatening voice, “free the polar bears.”

Either it's not all the threatening, or Louis is immune, because he just shrugs. “Whatever you say, Z.”

It shouldn't make Zayn's heart thump uncomfortably in his chest when his arch nemesis uses a nickname. It _definitely_ shouldn't make his heart thud painfully when Louis rolls his eyes at Zayn's dark look, but obediently bends to scoop up two penguins into his arms, pressing a quick kiss to their beaks before settling them back into their enclosure.

Turning his back on the sight, Zayn starts herding the rest of the escapees back across the ice bridge with the help of a rather amused looking zoo keeper. Twenty minutes and a successful headcount later, the zoo keeper gives Zayn a thumbs up.

He asks the crowd of onlookers to stand back as he brings his hands up, lip bitten in concentration. Flames dance out of his fingertips, licking over the ice bridge and melting it down until it's nothing but a puddle, with the penguins safely secured on the other side.

There's a smattering of applause, but a quick glance confirms what Zayn already suspected: Louis is long gone.

He barely feels guilty about leaving the ice slide intact. Louis might have had a point, he concedes, about the enrichment thing. He lingers until closing time, leaning against the barricade and watching the penguins play with their new toy.

It's not until he gets home that he realizes his headache has faded completely.

-

Honestly, the whole super power thing is some grass is always greener bullshit.

As a kid, Zayn had always been a dreamer, hoping against hope he'd be one of the lucky few to develop a power. By the time he was 15, he'd more or less grown out of it, accepted the fact that he just wasn't destined for bigger things.

The fire thing had been a rather unexpected birthday gift the day he turned 16. He'd burned through a few of his favorite shirts before he really got the hang of it, and to this day there a scorch marks riddled around his flat from the moments where he lost control, despite his best efforts.

It was sick, though, having a power, and Zayn fancied himself a proper super hero; for a bit, anyway. The thing about evil is that it never sleeps, and with great power comes great responsibility, blah blah blah. Zayn hadn't realized, before he developed a power, that it'd come with an _obligation_. It was sort of expected that he would dedicate his life to fighting evil.

Louis, though, he never saw coming.

-

It started, innocently enough, with an ice sculpture in the middle of campus.

Or, like. Maybe 'innocent' is poor word choice.

Zayn was a fresh-faced uni student, hard at work in the student union, serving the people. More accurately, he was dozing off in the back room while Niall manned the help desk. It wasn't Zayn's fault he'd been scheduled a morning shift, all right, and didn't have time to get a coffee before he stumbled into work.

His nap had been interrupted by a loud squawk of protest, Niall's soothing Irish lilt doing little to calm the situation. Rubbing his eyes irritably, Zayn shuffled out to the desk to see a red-faced kid with an honest to god Justin Bieber haircut, gesticulating wildly.

“It's – it's obscene! Totally inappropriate. Not to mention dangerous. What if it topples over, and lands on someone? They could be crushed to death! Beneath a giant -” the kid's eyes widened, and he whispered in horror, “a giant _ice penis_.”

Zayn blinked. “A what?”

The kid flushed even redder. “You heard me.”

There was a pause, and then Niall doubled over, laughing loudly. “You're shittin' me. An ice penis! Christ, that's a good one.”

Crossing his arms, the kid glowered at them. “I'm not _joking_. Come look, if you don't believe me.”

Zayn exchanged a glance with Niall. Technically, they weren't supposed to leave the help desk unattended, but even more technically, Zayn didn't care. Shrugging, they followed after the kid.

There was already a small crowd gathered in the quad, but the kid hadn't been kidding. The ice sculpture was massive, towering several meters above everyone's heads. Pushing through the crowd, Zayn stepped closer for a better look. The details were immaculate and finely crafted, as smooth as if they had been carved in marble.

“Huh,” Niall said, scratching his head. “It's a giant dick, all right.”

“Kinda impressed, if I'm being honest,” Zayn admitted.

“It's a _safety hazard_ ,” the kid reminded them, sounding positively scandalized.

Niall looked thoughtful. “True,” he agreed. “Could definitely kill someone, if it fell over. What a way 't go, though.”

Zayn publicly agreed, but privately felt a bit bad about asking Niall to clear the quad while he bit his lip in concentration. A carefully controlled fire later, the ice dick was melted down into a vaguely phallic, misshapen lump unlikely to crush anyone to death.

Barely an hour passed before a boy with a bird's nest for hair and glittering blue eyes stormed up to the help desk, where Niall and Zayn were playing an increasingly competitive game of tic-tac-toe.

“You,” the boy said, glaring daggers at Zayn. “You're the one who melted my ice dick.”

“Use that line on all the birds, do you?” Zayn asked with a lazy grin. Niall laughed, slapping his hand in a sloppy high five.

The boy smiled then, sharp-toothed and vicious, and Zayn suddenly had trouble swallowing. “Think you're funny, do you? Watch your back, mate. This is only the beginning.”

He flounced off as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Zayn speechless.

“Don't worry about him,” Niall said dismissively. “Louis' harmless. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Zayn echoed.

-

Louis spent the next two years fanning the flames of their rivalry, so to speak. Zayn was regularly pelted with snowballs year round and became quite adept at melting them with a flash of fire the moment before they made contact, which only seemed to spur Louis on more.

When he wasn't targeting Zayn specifically, Louis did his best to wreak havoc against the general public: creating obscene ice sculptures all over campus for unsuspecting students and faculty to stumble across; freezing the doors shut to all the buildings on campus during exam week; and one memorable occasion where he recreated every Calvin and Hobbs snowman scene, ostensibly in protest of coursework.

He seemed to enjoy targeting Liam in particular, even after he cut off the Bieber hair. Zayn suspected it was the way Liam would turn a splotchy red every single time he found an ice penis sculpture in a new and innovative location, and took pity on Liam, melting them down without complaint.

When Louis quietly dropped out just before junior year, Zayn had to pretend that he didn't miss the way his shower would suddenly blast icy cold water.

It was just a bit boring, is all, having powers with no arch nemesis to use them against.

Not that it lasted long. The quiet never did, when Louis was around.

-

The news is suspiciously Louis-free after the zoo incident, which only makes Zayn feel more and more on edge as the weeks pass. He spends his days between the dusty shelves of the bookstore he works at, his worthless uni degree collecting more dust in the depths of his mum's attic, and his nights encouraging petty criminals to rethink their villainous ways with flame-tipped fingers.

Zayn would never really burn someone, actually recoils at the thought, but the blubbering and empty promises that they'll “never do it again, I swear, just let me go!” get old quick. It's just not a _challenge_ , is the thing.

Flicking his fingers like a lighter, watching the little ball of fire flare to life before being snuffed out, again and again, Zayn wonders when he starting missing the challenge.

-

He needn't have worried.

Louis strikes again, and Zayn doesn't have to rely on the news to find out about it.

“You've really outdone yourself, mate.”

Louis beams, skinny chest puffed out with pride. He's traded his cape for a snow white tuxedo, which should look ridiculous, but mostly just looks good against his tanned skin.

“Thank you, Z. I'm glad you can appreciate art when you see it.”

They're standing shoulder to shoulder in front of what Zayn can only describe as a life-size Hot Wheels replica. The ramp is wide enough for a car to drive on, and curved into a perfect loop-de-loop in the middle of the street. Made entirely of ice, it gleams impressively. Dangerously.

“You know I'm gonna have to melt it, right?”

Louis looks outraged. “You wouldn't dare.”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn points, unnecessarily, at the ramp. “What if someone tries to drive on it?”

“That's the point, innit? It's fucking sick.”

“Lou, you made it out of _ice_. It's a car crash waiting to happen.”

Louis crosses his arms, stubborn. Zayn is hit with no less than 37 snowballs while he melts Louis' loop-de-loop, but the freezing snow has nothing on the ice-cold glare in Louis' eyes.

-

This time, it's only about 24 hours before Louis hatches his next scheme. Zayn's half asleep, shoveling Wheetabix into his mouth with the speed of a sloth before work, when his morning cartoons are interrupted by an urgent announcement.

“Witnesses report that an unidentified animal is on the loose, and has been sighted in several residential neighborhoods. One eyewitness account describes the animal as 'tall and apelike.' Another claims that it's the abominable snowman, but authorities have not verified any claims. Police are urging caution, and asking citizens to remain indoors--”

With a loud clatter, Zayn drops his spoon into his bowl. He barely blinks at the milk that splatters across the table.

“Fucking Louis.”

-

It turns out it's not very hard at all to track down an abominable snowman in the middle of London. Zayn follows the sound of sirens, but pulls up short once he's actually got the thing in sight.

The news exaggerated a bit, he thinks. The creature is on the tall side of average and looks a bit like a snowman come to life. Zayn spares a second to worry that Louis' powers are growing – last Zayn checked, Louis couldn't actually animate any of the ice creations he makes – but then the creature trips over it's own fumbling limbs, landing in a tangled heap on the ground. The impact knocks a bit of snow off one it's arms, and Zayn spots a distinctly human hand.

Ignoring the excitable bystanders, Zayn ducks past a cop car and walks over to the snow covered heap, treading carefully on booted feet. When he reaches its side, he nudges it with the toe of his boot and it flops over, groaning.

Zayn fully expects to see a pair of impish blue eyes blink up at him and has to cover his surprise when instead he's met with wide, unblinking green.

“Um,” he says.

The snow yeti smiles up at him, and the snow around its face cracks and falls away to reveal a pair of very human dimples.

“Hiiiii,” the boy says. “You must be Zayn. I thought Louis was exaggerating, but your bone structure really is incredible, mate.”

“You. What?” Zayn asks, trying not to look as confused as he feels.

“Harold,” a new voice cuts in smoothly, and Zayn tears his gaze away from the mess of snow and boy. “Please stop talking,” Louis continues, smiling sharply.

Feeling like he's already lost the upperhand, Zayn scrambles to regroup. “Louis,” he says with confidence he doesn't feel. “This your idea of a prank, then? Terrifying children and giving your mate frostbite?”

Louis' smile drops from his face like a switch has been flipped. “Harry's fine,” he snaps. “But by all means, go ahead and warm him up with your stupid flame hands.”

Zayn kneels down to do just that – Harry's nose is very red and he's starting to shiver a bit – and Louis throws his arms up in apparent defeat.

“Unbelievable!” he squawks. “I don't fucking believe this.”

Zayn frowns, flames already licking from his fingertips. “What'd you expect me to do, bro? Let him freeze?”

Harry's head swivels back in forth between Louis and Zayn like he's watching a tennis match, chunks of snow sloughing off with every twist so that he looks less and less like a snow yeti and more and more like a boy who lost a snowball fight.

“Louis...” Harry starts, but Louis is already pivoting on his heel and marching off down the street. Overhead, steel gray clouds start to build and a few snowflakes fall gently to the ground. Harry sticks his tongue out to try to catch one.

Looking up, Zayn watches the sky with mistrust. “This is like, a coincidence, right? He can't actually control the weather.”

“Well,” Harry says slowly. “That's open to interpretation, I suppose. The weather reflects his mood, but he's not great at controlling his mood, so.”

Zayn sits back on his heels, flames flickering almost absentmindedly over his fingertips. “I've seen him pissed before, though, and I've never seen – this.” He gestures to the sky overhead, where the blue of the sky has been completely swallowed by clouds.

“Er. It's not my place to say, like – but I don't think you're seeing anger, mate.”

Zayn raises a brow and Harry winks. “Jealously, bro. I'm talking about jealousy.”

-

The resulting snowstorm shuts down half of London for two days before the streets can be plowed and salted. Zayn spends the entire time holed up in his flat, ignoring all his texts and messages, and watching the flame on his fingertip flick on and off like the click of a lighter.

-

As soon as the streets are cleared, Niall and Liam drag him out to a club in punishment for ignoring their texts. Zayn tries to be a wallflower, mysterious and aloof, but Niall just laughs in his face and drags him bodily onto the dance floor. None of them can dance, but they manage a friendly sort of three way grind that Zayn thinks deserves an A for effort.

It takes him several songs to realize that the glitter falling from the ceiling isn't actually glitter, but snowflakes catching in the pulsing, multicolored beams of light.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans quietly, extracting himself from between Niall and Liam and pushing through the crowd of dancing bodies towards the bar. He spots Louis in an instant, his glare cutting through the club like a sharp-tipped knife.

“You mind, bro?” Zayn shouts over the music.

“Not at all,” Louis retorts. Harry is standing next to him looking mildly concerned, and his eyes grow comically wide when a sudden clump of snow falls heavily onto Zayn's head, flakes sticking to his lashes and creeping down his back like frostbitten fingers.

Zayn blinks before lifting his hand to brush the snow from his shoulders. Louis' mouth curls up into a grinch-like smile, his hip jutting out to lean casually against the bar. Shaking the last of the snow from his hair, Zayn stalks closer, sidestepping people until there's no one left between them.

In one hand, Louis holds a drink that's dripping with condensation, ice tinkling as he takes a disdainful sip. Zayn reaches out and touches his fingertip to the glass, heating it until the ice melts and Louis scowls darkly.

“You're playing with fire, mate,” he bites out.

Letting flames erupt from his fingertips, Zayn waggles them in Louis' face. “I know.”

Still scowling, Louis upends his warm drink over Zayn's hand, dousing the flames with a hiss.

Next to them, Harry hums a song under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _Let It Go_. Zayn doesn't even feel a little bit bad when Harry flees the bar a minute later, yelping every time one of Louis' snowballs finds its mark.

-

It's embarrassing to admit after the fact, but it's not until the sixth morning in a row that Zayn's coffee is delivered to him cold that it clicks into place.

He's never had reason to seek out Louis in his own territory before, but this is _personal_. Niall, of course, knows his address and texts it to Zayn with a series of increasingly alarmed emojis. Zayn ignores him, heading straight to Louis' building and pounding his fist on his door.

After a solid five minutes of knocking, Louis finally answers, looking unsurprised and unbothered to see Zayn standing there.

“Can I help you?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe with practiced indifference.

“I haven't had hot coffee in a _week_. This has got to stop.”

Louis studies his fingernails. “Pretty pathetic, if you ask me, that a guy who can _control fire_ can't even keep his own coffee hot.”

It's all Zayn can do to keep his teeth from grinding into his jaw. “I can reheat it, you prick, but it – you know coffee doesn't taste as good, if it's not fresh!”

Louis shrugs, unconcerned. “Wouldn't know. I'm a tea man, meself.”

The thing about Louis is that he always has to have the last word. He'll keep the verbal volleys coming, or he'll smack Zayn in the face with a snowball, and Zayn just wants to _shut him up_.

So it's just strategy, really, when Zayn steps forward, pressing Louis back against the wall and kissing him breathless. Louis makes a noise, so Zayn slides his tongue into Louis' mouth, swallowing the sound. He can feel Louis' fingers in his hair, gripping tight, his other hand sneaking down to cup Zayn's arse, pulling him in closer.

Zayn needs to keep Louis' hands occupied and out of trouble, which is why he pulls back long enough to ask, “bedroom?” Then Louis is leading him down the hall, fingers wrapped around Zayn's wrist, pressing into the thin skin over his pulse. In Louis' room, Zayn pushes him over backwards onto the bed, crawling up the mattress to pin Louis' hands over his head.

Louis makes another noise at that, but doesn't fight against Zayn's grip. He catches Zayn's mouth in a bruising kiss, all sharp teeth and rough stubble, exactly how Zayn imagined he'd be.

“Such a fucking pain,” Zayn pants out, his fingers sliding down between them to work at Louis' zipper, Louis' wrists still pinned in place by his other hand. “Always causing trouble, aren't you?” he adds, fingertips finding their way beneath Louis' waistband. “Never know when to shut your mouth.”

Louis whimpers, hips bucking up into Zayn's hand. “Gonna make me?” he goads, fingers clenching and unclenching like he's fighting against himself.

On impulse, Zayn drags his hand back up, pushing two fingers into Louis' mouth. Louis catches on quickly, sucking on them until they're wet and nearly groaning when Zayn pulls them free with an obscene noise, wrapping his slick hand around Louis' cock and wanking him roughly. It's not long before Louis is biting back a whimper, spilling over Zayn's hand and his own stomach. Zayn's barely caught his breath before Louis shoves at his shoulder, pushing until Zayn sprawls out on his back, then tugging Zayn's trousers and pants down with feverish hands and mouthing at his cock.

“You – god, Lou,” Zayn breathes, gripping the sheets with white knuckles as Louis swallows him down. It's – it's a really effective method, he thinks, to shut Louis up. Great strategy, or whatever. He buries his fingers in Louis' hair and Louis hums around his cock.

He comes too fast to give Louis a warning and Louis chokes a little, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he pulls off. “Could warn a bloke,” he rasps, and Zayn pulls him down for another kiss in apology.

Louis must forgive him because he kisses him back, slow, lazy kisses that make Zayn's head feel fuzzy and warm. He should probably find his pants, get dressed and ask Liam to talk some sense into him, but instead he lets Louis pull him into a cuddle, arm wrapped around Louis' middle and his chest pressed to Louis' back. Louis pulls the duvet up over them, and Zayn lets his eyes drift shut. He'll talk to Liam tomorrow, maybe.

Anyway, it's, like, easier to keep an eye on Louis this way. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and all that. Zayn curls his hand over Louis' heartbeat and holds him tight.

Outside, the stars twinkle in a cloudless sky. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://moondoggiestyle.tumblr.com/) :)


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